We held the second write club of the year today, and I’ve discovered the seemingly terrifying power that comes with combining a walk across the magic, story-inducing Kurilpa bridge in the morning with a two-hour block of writing alongside Angela Slatter at the State Library. And the net result is a day where I’ve produced 3,500 new words I’m more or less happy with, most of which make up the first chapter of a new Aster novella. About two thirds of this was done at write club, which is now partially time-limited due to the fact that we’re borrowing space from the State Library, and the rest has been done after I got home later in the day and had a nap.
Turns out I rather like this writing thing. I think I’ll do more of it once this blog is done.
I’ve been pretty stringent about not applying deadlines to my year, either externally-imposed or self-imposed, but I think there’s a faint plan starting to coalesce in terms of what I’d like to do and when I’d like to have it done. It’s been ages since I had a plan I wanted to pursue, rather than one that I needed to pursue ’cause there were things that needed doing. It makes me feel all tingly and eager when I think about it.
